“I don’t get any of this.”
Toren was pacing angrily back and forth between his room. Neville as well as his friend Jaden sat on the floor, watching him as he was visibly frustrated.
Toren: “Why would my mom decide to go against the Spears? What’s so great that outsider kid?”
Jaden: “Probably because she thinks she can use him to overtake the Spears.”
Toren: “That’s the part I don’t understand. How will the outsider kid serve our cause? The Spears are cowards, we don’t even need to join hands with the Marauders to beat them.”
His rant was cut off as the fabrics of the graceful dark blue dress peeked through the room. In walked his mother, Freyja. His two friends immediately took a knee, facing down and greeting her. Meanwhile Toren only stopped to turn and look.
Toren: “What brings you here?”
From behind her an equally aesthetic man walked in. Some of his beauty was lost however, as his face was flushed and he was struggling to stand upright. The almost empty bottle of alcohol immediately answered why.
Kylen: “Toren, it's the day. The Prophecy, the Tournament. You took a nap didn’t you!”
Toren sighed, flipping his hair dramatically as he glared at his father.
Toren: “You should sober up father. You look extremely unsightly as of this moment.”
Kylen laughed off the comment, and Freyja raised an eyebrow.
Toren: “We’ll get there on our own mother.”
She walked over to hum, ruffled his hair and kissed him on the head as Kylen shouted ‘what about me?’ in the background.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Freyja: “Alright. I’ll see you at the tournament, be safe until then. Okay sweetie?”
Toren shoved her hand away.
Toren: “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
As he stormed out of his room angrily, his two friends followed after him.
Neville: “What’s up?”
Toren: “I’m going to kill him.”
Neville: “The outsider?”
Toren: “I refuse to have our Subclan associated with a pathetic loser like him. He’s dying at the tournament. Will you guys help me out?”
Jaden smiled.
Jaden: “Of course.”
Neville: “You know we’ll go anywhere with you.”
With a confident nod, Toren led the three of them out the vicinity, and they made their way to the Stage.
————
As Sorn approached the Stage, he was astonished by how crowded the area was. Practically every resident of the Fortress was attending. Standing side by side with two Spear members whilst trailing behind ‘Varian, the crowd parted to give them way. Sorn felt a chill upon seeing the people whispering and pointing intensely. The many breaths misted in the air, creating almost a mini fog environment.
Sorn stepped onto the Stage. Directly behind was the Royal Palace that was surrounded by large cylinder ice walls. The Stage itself was magnificent, glistening under the pale light of the moon. It was raised high, making the people below appear like a sea of individuals. At the center of the stage stood an altar, also carved from ice. It was carefully polished to a perfect shine. Behind the altar, steps led up to a grandiose platform. The Council members stood at the top, their forms outlined discreetly in the night sky. Sorn watched as Varian walked up to sit in the middle throne, not even offering a greeting to his fellow Councilmen. Instead, he chose to sit nonchalantly and survey the scene.
The crowd that was gathered were silent. Sorn looked down at them, hoping he could at least recognize a single face in the endless crowd.This proved to be unsuccessful. He almost hated the silence, it only made the tension more apparent.
His heart was pounding, but he became distracted by a loud noise. Bjorn had slammed a hammer of ice into the stage, causing all attention to turn to him.
Bjorn: “Esteemed member of the Fortress. My beloved Ice Elementals. With glory to Seraph I take the honor of presenting to you, His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor! With him is the esteemed Prophesizor, the living member of the Pythian Subclan.”
From the massive archway leading down to the stage, the Emperor emerged. His dark and flowing robe was adorned with crystals, as he used a cane of ice to support himself while he surveyed the crowd.
Behind him followed Crystal and Keilan, their features serious and noble. After them followed two individuals Sorn had never seen before, a stern man who Sorn recognized to have the same symbol that he had seen on Aira and Aria on his necklace. Beside him walked a man with three large, beautiful spears floating around him as he gracefully matched the steps of the others.
Sorn's eyes widened as he turned to watch the grand entrance. From the massive archway leading to the stage, the Emperor emerged, his presence commanding and regal. His dark, flowing robes were adorned with intricate patterns of gold and silver, catching the light and shimmering as he walked. His expression was stern, eyes piercing through the cold air as he surveyed the gathered crowd with a mixture of authority and expectation.
Afterwards, at last, the Prophesizor stepped forward. He was elderly, perhaps rivaling even the Emperor in age. His robes were simplistic, and his eyes never left the sky as he slowly followed the others to the Stage.
Passing by him, Crystal offered a reassuring smile while Keilan took no heed of him. The Emperor stood at the altar alongside the two unknown men. They waited for the Prophesizor to approach. Once he did, Sorn noticed Varian giving a slight nod to Bjorn, who gave a wide smile.
Bjorn: “Be prepared, my people. What awaits us is the carver of our destiny. From the stars rains down the Prophecy.
Fate tells no lies.
End.